Darkest Passions
by Durga
Summary: Lo and behold the journey within the troubled blossoming relationship between Isaak Fernand von Kämpfer and Caterina Sforza. [Spark II: “Why play the mute dancer? You could have ambushed me in a less troublesome manner.”]
1. First Spark: A Strand of Gold

Disclaimer: _Trinity Blood_ belongs to Sunao Yoshida and THORES Shibamoto.

Notes: I would like to clear up before I start that this story will consist of one-shots that will portray and weave a romantic relationship between Isaak Fernand von Kampfër and Caterina Sforza for my claim in 10 passions with different lengths, POVs, and writing styles. This is set in the novel verse because of rich interaction between them lost in others (between them and characterization). There will be spoilers for novel events. I want to thank to Angellorexx for getting me in this couple, Kresnick for novel trivia and characterization aid and SaintedSin for her editing skills in this first chapter.

First chapter, set when Caterina is 14-15 years old. Comments welcome.

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**Darkest Passions**

**First Spark: A Strand of Gold**

He used to believe, trapped in his philosophical ponderings regarding the nature of objects and beings inside his laboratory thick with smoke from sulphur and tobacco, that there were no equals to him in this world. Admittedly, there were close rivals and fascinating creatures to research deeply such as the weak god he claimed to serve but none come close in his eyes.

None until Isaak came across _her._

When the Sforzas were lastly targeted, he felt no remorse. They were a dangerous lot, naïve and idealistic for his vision, not to mention his lord's schemes. Particularly the young illegitimate spawn of the Pope, her brilliance and blood ties could be a threat if they allowed her to grow. Her older, half brother would be more easily to sway alone.

Isaak Fernand von Kämpfer had no use for a dreamy girl who wished an idyllic world of perfect stillness. Little did he know she would become the bane of his existence, a thorn that would prickle his heart and the secret obsession he had not dared to pursue until she was ready. Panzer Magier had not expected her to twice survive the onslaught and manage to enlist the assistance of his Master's twin as her bodyguard.

He was, for the lack of better words, _impressed._

Despite his former conviction about her worth, Isaak revised his opinion regarding the subject of young Caterina Sforza, the second person able to discover and manipulate a legendary Kreznik to her designs. The first being him, certainly, against his servile claims to Mein Herr. This young lady had been able to match him, thus he decided to take up some personal research on her. Begrudgingly, in the solitude of his studies, he was starting to long for an equal.

The Magician travelled to Roma personally; intrigued by the rumours she was accepted inside the prestige University located there when she turned fifteen years old.

Mein Herr was easy to convince, Cain Knightlord was unbelievably trusting to his word when Isaak volunteered to study the movements of his twin and his adaptation inside the modern society. He did so in passing, to keep his façade of the reports. Abel Nightroad was a rather clumsy and good-hearted candidate for priesthood but his real interest was the small genius at the Kreznik's side.

With her frilly green gown, lace hat and sophisticated standing, it was difficult to believe Abel was guarding her. It seemed the other way around. She was constantly chastising his lack of manners or common sense. It was comical to watch this giant, silver haired man getting scowled by a pretty girl. The scenes between them bore a resemblance to his own, more subtle, suggestions at Mein Herr's irresponsible antics. Isaak dismissed that analogy first and focused in her features.

_She is just a doll_, Isaak thought in disdain.

Like the rumours had warned him beforehand, Caterina was a living doll with her fair skin, razorblade eyes, small mouth and perfectly curled strands made of gold. If Isaak were Neuman or Dietrich he would have feel attracted to her looks but the Magician hated dolls. They were useful to play with for some people but in the end a hollow entertainment that someone of his stature and refined tastes would not sink to amuse himself.

A doll was a toy, not a playmate. A puppet was never an equal.

Isaak had nearly lost interest on her but his curiosity was soon rekindled once more when he found out that William Walter Wordsworth was her Professor and he doted her as a favourite. William, with whom he had a classmate long ago, had a good eye for talent.

After that, Isaak made his routine to observe her interactions with Abel, a woman called Kate Scott, an Inquisition Agent, Wordsworth and her family. So he saw it all from discrete guises. The soft ring of her laugh, the gentle smile on her vermilion lips, the sad but determinate eyes and the confidence in her voice. She was addictive, like nicotine or fine wine, like the thrill the success of his experiments induced into his system. Once tasted, Isaak could not stop watching.

She had an aura of authority that made her charismatic among her older peers (but she wisely kept only a handful close to her) and eventually won the favour of her neglectful biological father much to her older brother's rage. The same charm that had managed to enamoure him.

Her political career was on the rise, participating in public debates regarding national issues, voicing her opinion in religious topics. Caterina never lost her composure in discussion, she sat straight, perfectly dressed and seldom rising her voice. She graced her furious contenders with a diplomatic and polite smile that unnerved them further.

Isaak watched everything amused from corners and shadows. She was clever, keeping calm at the lashings only favoured her. The young Duchess reminded the Magician of him once more with implacable manners and frustrating wit.

His Lady Sforza was simply beautiful with her quiet sorrow, secret thoughts of revenge and mature dreams. She did not look like a doll anymore. Dolls did not speak of politics with adults nor did they possess a spirit as bright as their hair. Pure gold that was she was, the most treasured element of the Alchemists of old.

Unfortunately, it came the day he had to abandon the secret encounters and stolen moments between them. It was difficult for his fixation was strong but it must be done. There would be another attempt against her life soon and he was ordered to return.

"Certainly, my Lord. I'm coming immediately. I have gathered what is necessary already," he had told Cain with a soft tone. He looked up him from his half bow. The Kreznik was satisfied with the information about his brother to care what extra-curricular interests occupied the Magician's mind.

He would not leave without bidding farewell to his beloved lady. Isaak would not be that awfully rude. And fortune smiled down the Magician for Caterina was only accompanied by two designed bodyguards from the Vatican the following day in the library. Killing them had been easy and clean as was putting a spell on the Duchess who was engrossed in her reading and noticed far too late. The effects had already triggered the desired reaction in her body.

Isaak emerged from the shadows, approaching the slumbering girl. The floor behind him was stained with red.

"My Lady Sforza, I hope you forgive me for not introduce myself on this occasion and I beg you to overlook my impertinence," he said, stopping next to her. He slid her book gently from her grasp and shut it. It was a treatise of theology and their view of the Methuselah. Isaak returned it to it former place. "But in view of the circumstances and your family tragedy, I hesitate to believe you will appreciate my company."

Caterina did not stir, still lingering in his spell, not with his words nor his index finger toying with one of her curls. "You feel cold and seek refuge in the books and the debates," he murmured, close to her ear. "You self-exile from everything to deny the burning fire inside you. A spirit made of flame that would set the entire world in fire. How glorious would that be?" He chuckled, tilting his head; his dark hair hid his expression. "I shall ignite that once more. Seek it and show you what you try to deny. We are so alike, my Lady. And yet remarkably different at the same time."

Isaak cut the ringlet he had been curling from her hair and pocketed it lovingly. "Don't think me as a thief. I shed blood for you to survive, Duchess," explained the Magician, glancing at her dead bodyguards. "Thus I demand a little reward. As an Alchemist, I treasure gold. A single strand of gold from you." He straightened and observed her with a hungry expression. He desired her but not in a mundane physical way. "In our next meeting, I will demand the gold from your soul. Farewell, milady. Survive for me and our future secret encounters."

He strode out, losing himself in the crowd of students just seconds before the chaos and screams of murder were shouted. As usual, his timing was accurate. Panzer Magier finally returned to the headquarters reporting an edited version of his research. Mein Herr did not make a mention of his murders but he knew the Kreznik was aware of them. He did not utter his weakness aloud for Isaak had similar courtesy to not bring up his obsession with his twin. There was an unspoken agreement between the two.

"She survived, Isaak," Cain had simply commented days after he left Roma. He seemed amused by the failure to assassinate Caterina Sforza. "After her inadequate bodyguards demises, the girl kept Kreznik 02 and her comrades with her everywhere. Such luck those two guards fell dead, don't you think?" He smiled entertained.

"Luck for them and misfortune for us, my Lord," he repeated obediently.

"Prepare my bath, Magician, I need to be restored after the news." Mein Herr dismissed the topic altogether and Panzer Magier was clever enough to not pressuring for information about Caterina's whereabouts. He would obtain it sooner or later.

After complying Cain's wishes, Isaak renewed his experiments inside his laboratory. The quest for new spells and answering of riddles that had survived generations. His eyes fell on the golden lock of hair he kept in a jar and smiled, it always brought a glistening aura his room lacked.

She survived. That was enough to rebuke any doubt he could have about overestimating her. Caterina Sforza was like him, his equal and he only liked the best that life had to offer. She would not die until she had achieved her goals, even if her body would weaken and fade; she had an inner fire that would fuel her existence.

It was all matter to turn that bright flame, dark.


	2. Second Spark: Masks

Edited by Lyanna Kane. Set after RAM I: _From the Empire_ (notice, for those without knowledge of novel events is where Isaak and Caterina met formally. She –with Tres' aid- stops him from flooding Venice. He subtly offers her to join the Order while admiring her bravery and beauty - ready to spare her life). Also this ficlet has a touch of Tres/Caterina (because the cyborg-stalker needs some love).

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**- Second Spark: Masks**

Venice was restless, extravagant and daring. Like the common myth indicated, the place was one of the handful in the entire world where _unique_ was the most useful word describing the sights. Therein lay was pure joy and mischief: the puppet shows in the streets, the masked lovers throwing perfume-filled eggs to their secret lady-doves and the bulls chasing people throughout the narrow streets.

Night came, but the lights of the Carnival only shone at their brightest. Endre's past crimes, the destruction caused by Duchess Asran and Abel in their attempts to chase him, as well as the unsuccessful flooding attempts by Kämpfer were forgotten in the escapade provided by fireworks and merry-making festive.

The city was intoxicating, refreshing and alive, igniting an addictive passion within Caterina Sforza that made her feel wilder, unlike the well-mannered Cardinal trapped in the walls of Roma. She held no regrets to having decided to stay a couple more days in Venice, while Francesco whisked Alec away from "such a distastefully pagan joint." She was eternally grateful that her great aunt, the Doge Isabella d'Este, had invited her to the ball held in the Doge's Palace.

The gathering was a complete opposite to the proper, protocol-ruled parties she had always attended; instead, so much happy chaos and freedom ruled inside the multi-coloured façade of the gothic palace. The orchestra consisted mostly of strings, and dancers dressed to reflect the year's seasons entertained the spectators with their flashing costumes.

Everyone was wearing costumes, not just the actors. The sea of masks made it impossible to discern the identities of the attendants. She only spotted Tres - for whom she had chosen the green Harlequin disguise - on the periphery of the ballroom, attempting to keep track of her movements.

Caterina was richly dressed in her white gown with an iridescent diaphanous silk overly, and embroidered with black and white pearls; from her shoulders hung a multicoloured cloak made of gauze. Her gloves reached the middle of her arm and she had her hair picked up partly, glistening with rubies and sapphires. Her face was properly covered with a feathery mask – orange, yellow, violet and blue- framed in pearls and shaped like the wings of a butterfly. The only visible part of her features were her red lips, curling up into an unlady-like grin, as she danced at the rhythm of Vivaldi's _Four Seasons._

Among the crowd of anonymous high positioned people, the young Cardinal experienced a sense of unyielding freedom. No one knew who the other was, no one knew of their political postures, title and fortune – all meaningless, on that night. She moved from arm to arm, engrossed by the tune, her heart racing with gleeful excitement. It never seemed to end with each time she accepted the hand of a new dancing partner.

Caterina surveyed her current partner. He was taller than her former companions, cloaked in black and grey velvet robes, having donned a black hat with a red feather and a mask that was pure darkness. She could not distinguish any of his features, aside of the sparkling, black porcelain that concealed his face. He held his hand to her and bowed, gentlemanly. The Duchess made a pause and finally grasped it, and both followed the darker tunes of the melody as Autumn shifted to Winter.

He was an incredible dancer - even she had difficulties to follow his graceful pace and elegant steps. Caterina closed her eyes, the music pulsating inside her veins as the orchestra reached the crescendo.

"I must say that you are an excellent dancer, Sir," she commented breathlessly. His answer was a deep silence as he kept dancing, his body scandalously close to hers. Caterina did not mind, as long as his intentions were clean. She had a mask, no one would recognise her, and she wanted to indulge herself in the bold advances of a stranger. The gentleman appeared to be quiet, and the Duchess liked that in males, probably because her older brother's nature had stirred her against the talkative breed.

Between swings and twirlings, passing body friction and her own soft laughter ringing in her ears, Caterina's disorientation increased. Her senses were so entranced by the fluid motions of her partner, by the goblets of wine that she had ingested during the feast, by the voices and the identical, colourful masks surrounding her that she lost sight of Tres, along with her sense of place. She felt so light, flying, as she was carried by the silent stranger until their arrival at one of the exits of the Palace.

Caterina saw the lovers kissing and whispering under the protective shadows of the arcs; they kept their masks, but their silhouettes were too suggestive to ever take them for innocents. Her gaze turned to the night sky, filled with stars and a myriad of firework lights that eclipsed the moons' beauty.

"Forgive me, but why have you brought me here?" Caterina asked sternly. She had not given the wrong impression, had she? Her face flushed beneath her mask, alarmed to think her acts wanton.

The gentleman positioned a finger on the mask's lips, then gestured towards the _Rio di Palazzo;_ an empty gondola with a lamp was waiting along the moonlit bay. He bowed once more, offering his hand to her. Caterina's uneasiness intensified.

"You must forgive me, but I don't know you. I will return to the main chamber. Have a good night, Sir," she said, dryly, and turned to leave but, as soon as she had spun, his arms embraced her waist and pulled her firmly against his body. He smelled unpleasantly beneath the musk cologne, a strong tobacco and sulphur scent forcing her to wrinkle her nose. "Do I have to cause a scene that would damage both our reputations for you to release me?" she demanded with a measured bored voice. She would not let him know of the shivers she had to repress and born of his touch.

"Your humble admirer asks your forgiveness, my Lady Sforza. I merely wanted to spend a lovely evening with you," he answered at last in a soft, cultured tone. Her eyes widened in recognition of the voice.

"Kämpfer!" Caterina exclaimed, about to scream for help, though abstaining. She realized they were circled by unarmed civilians that would surely get trapped in the crossfire, were she to resist. That is, if the dark creatures the Magician was able to summon did not swallow them beforehand. "What do you want from me? To kill me in the name of your lord's terrorist organisation?"

"First, I want you to relax. I'm certain someone as brilliant as yourself, milady, understands our circumstances," Kämpfer indicated, and she complied, slowly, not to arise suspicions. A lovers' spat, nothing more. He fingered her mask, trailing the edges. "Much better, less tense."

"I'm waiting for your answer." Caterina frowned, frustrated by Panzer Magier's trick. "Why play the mute dancer? You could have ambushed me in a less troublesome manner."

"Ah but I didn't want to ambush you, milady. Don't take me for a commoner kidnaper," Isaak informed her, twirling her around and kneeling before her, grasping her right hand tightly, so she could not escape.

"I don't. I consider you a dangerous terrorist."

"Didn't my silence entice you? I did nothing but follow your advice: talkative gentlemen are unpleasant in the eyes of the ladies. Did I _please_ you, Duchess?"

Caterina stared at in disbelief. Please her? There had to be some trick at play. Even if he had, she would not admit it aloud to anyone but her Confessor. "What do you want?" she insisted, tirelessly.

"I had my dance," Isaak stated, rising and offering his arm. "I seek nothing but a gondola stroll along the moonlit bay in the pleasure of your lovely company, Duchess."

"And if I refuse?" she challenged.

"Do you want _me_ to cause a regretful scene that should damage both our reputations?"

Caterina paused, considering the amount of foolish, giggling lovers around them. She was not like Francesco; she would not sacrifice innocent people in the name of her pride. She took his arm and he guided her smoothly towards the gondola. Kämpfer climbed in first, appearing to melt with the shadows as he helped her settle in. Then he took the long oar and started to move the boat away from the port.

The beautiful Cardinal sat in silence, glancing towards each side in mistrust. Was this a trap? He could not possibly have only wanted to go on a twisted date with her. No one had ever asked her out, except for the Bishop Borgia, and he made passes at all the available ladies. Caterina crossed her arms, and her tension diminished when the common sights of the masked citizens playing pranks at those lacking costumes appeared to her left. She smiled despite the strangulating nervousness in her stomach.

"You will be returned safe and unharmed, my Lady Sforza, you have nothing to fear from me tonight."

"May I ask why I should feel reassured in your company? You have attempted to flood this city in the past."

"And you and your cybernetic dog stopped me from accomplishing that."

Caterina waited for him to continue to explain himself.

"This is a Carnival and we are wearing masks," Kämpfer pointed out, as if the obvious. "You are not a Cardinal and I'm not my Lord's faithful follower, here and now. We are just a man and a woman enjoying a stroll."

Caterina focused her attention on his dark figure once more. She was speechless for a moment, torn between disgust and coquettish flattery. Aside of her strong infatuation with Abel, she was not well versed in the arts of courtship.

"You are strange, Kämpfer."

"That's an improvement from being unappealing, my Lady Sforza."

The gondola suddenly stopped under the shadow of a sinister bridge made of white limestone. The structure of it was enclosed with stone bars on the windows. Caterina shuddered inwardly, disturbed by its gloomy aura. The Carnival did not appear to not reach that part of the city.

"Can you hear them?" Kämpfer asked, approaching her carefully so the gondola would not swing much to the sides.

"What am I supposed to hear?"

"Ssh, close your eyes," he instructed as he sat beside her. "And listen."

Against her common sense, Caterina found herself following his indication. The sounds were faint, quietened by the distant euphoria, but also frighteningly clear. Sighs, she heard sighs within those walls. She berated her dimness for not recognising where it was that Kämpfer had brought her.

"_Ponte dei Sospiri_," whispered Caterina, swallowing hard. She was not a superstitious woman, but the sight made her skin crawl.

"_I stood in Venice on the Bridge of Sighs, a palace and prison on each hand,_" Kämpfer recited with amusement. "Those sighs belong to the prisoners. As you know, the former Doge disposed that the ones sentenced to death should be allowed to enjoy one last Carnival before their execution from the bridge."

"I heard my aunt commenting about abolishing that. According to her, it causes mental breakdown."

"Why? The doomed always want a glimpse of joy before returning to their fate between constricting walls."

The Duchess of Milan lifted an eyebrow, refusing to allow his insinuation reach her. She had also wanted to linger until the Carnival finished before returning to Roma, to taste the sweet and brief flavour of an existence without obligations.

"Floating beneath the Bridge of Sighs, the most frightening construction in Venice. Is this your idea of a romantic setting, Kämpfer?" Caterina inquired, shifting the direction of their conversation.

"I'm afraid I'm as well-versed as you when such things as romance, milady. However, I expected that you should find this masochist torture of great interest. If my Lord succeeds in his plan, the bridge that trapped them in their sorrows will be gone."

"Along with them. What freedom can they enjoy if they are dead?" "Some may be spared…" he trailed off slyly. "The superior beings." For all his verbose traits, Kämpfer was unsubtle with his propositions.

"Superior beings understand that freedom is not bought with piles of corpses."

"Shall we return now, my Lady Sforza?" Kämpfer asked, rising after losing another battle. "Your hound must be sniffing around in search of your location."

Caterina cast her gaze down, ignoring the diversion around her, while the gondola made its way back towards the palace from where they had departed. No one seemed to care for their arrival, the lovers continuing with their activities without bothering to look at the pair of them.

Kämpfer played the gentleman again, aiding her to exit the moving boat. Caterina was engulfed in his embrace when she jumped to the ground.

"Did my lady enjoy her trip?"

Caterina straightened, then snatched his irritating mask in a bold motion. She would speak to his face, not to a mask. His blue eyes widened slightly, but he was smirking at her antic.

"You talk far too much, Kämpfer. It appears you didn't learn your lesson about how unappealing talkative men are to me."

"Ah, you are correct," Kämpfer answered with an unreadable face. Was he disappointed his ways had not served to woo her at their side? "Perhaps our farewell should be less verbose then?" Acting against his semblance of impeccable manners, he was rude and kissed her. His lips were passionate and rough; his hands stroked her back to relax her.

Caterina also acted against her resolution and returned the kiss. She did not love him, and was certain the feeling was mutual, but she could not deny how attractive he was to her, then and there. She sighed as he released her mouth and kissed her jaw, then her neck. Her eyes closed in pleasure at the feel of his sensuous mouth against her skin.

"You are without a mask now," said the Duchess hoarsely, lifting the hand that had carried the black mask. Her heart fluttered in excitement, her white face blushing in embarrassment. "Your identity has been revealed as that of my enemy, you should attack me." She feared him more now that her heart and not her life was on line.

Isaak chuckled, breathing in her ear: "Keep that, it's a fake mask. One day, perhaps you will truly unmask me." He released her fast and climbed back in the gondola, bowing with a melodramatic motion of his cloak. His lips were crimson with her lipstick. "Farewell, my Lady. We will see each other again in less pleasant circumstances."

Caterina was paralysed in her place, unable to call for aid, as darkness swallowed Kämpfer in the gondola afar. She was trembling with shame, with frustration and passion. She touched her lips, only to find them burning.

"Duchess!" Tres' voice was a reminder of the reality lost due to the mask she wore.

She was Caterina Sforza, Duchess of Milan and Cardinal of the Vatican, and she would not let a terrorist seduce her in such a fashion. Gathering her breath, Caterina turned to greet the Gunslinger, as he walked from the gates in his Harlequin outfit.

"Are you damaged, Duchess? It has passed exactly one hour and fifteen minutes since your departure."

"I'm fine, Father Iqus, don't worry," Caterina assured him, but noticed his eyes wander towards her neck. She rubbed her hand there, and her glove came stained red. She gritted her teeth. Kämpfer had surely imprinted his lips on her skin. "This is nothing and confidential," she pointed out, then regarded his carefully. "Is the party over, Tres?"

"Negative."

"Good. It's time to put William's dancing program to the test," Caterina said with a smile, offering her arm to Tres. "I would love to dance with you before leaving. It's not an order, so you may refuse."

Tres looked at her for a prolonged time before taking her offered arm. "Negative, Duchess. I belong to you. Therefore, I'll dance with you."

"Wait. I must do just one last thing," Caterina pointed out, tossing Kämpfer's mask in the dark waters behind her. Satisfied to see it sinking, the Cardinal led her devoted escort inside.


End file.
